“Hello, father,” I said, extending my hand for him to shake.
“My boy,” he said, pulling me in for a big hug. “A handshake? Hugs are for family.” He thumped my back with his hand as he embraced me, and I did the same.
Though he was getting older, he was still just as big and strong as he’d ever been. A big lion of a man, my mother always said. And though I might be three inches taller and broader in the shoulders, he still made me feel like a little kid when he hugged me.
“Come in,” he said. “Just dotting some Is and crossing some Ts.” He pulled back from the bear hug with a conspiratorial wink. Looking past his shoulder, I saw two familiar faces, though they’d also changed a good deal since I’d seen them last. “You remember the Popescu brothers,” my father said.
Of course, I did. Total dickheads, the both of them. But now they were acting far less dickish than I remembered.
They actually made eye contact, for starters. The older one went to the trouble of standing up and shaking my hand. And then the younger one did, too.
Last I remember, these motherfuckers could hardly be trusted not to shiv a guy with his own goddamned knife. But here they were, sitting in chairs like civilized human beings, actually signing a contract—actually reading it.
Some things had most definitely changed since I left. I glanced at the paper on my father’s big, walnut desk. The words deed and quarry popped off the page at me.
Well, well, well. So the Popescues had finally agreed to sell. I wondered what my father had to do to get this to happen. Whatever it was, I knew it had been shrewd. My father knew how to walk that line between legitimacy and illegality in a way that my brother didn’t.
Petre was a monster of his own making—if not for his last name, he’d probably already be either in prison or dead. My father, on the other hand, was a decent guy in a dirty business, and he wasn’t afraid to get dirty too, if it benefited his family and legacy.
He made his way over to the two of them, carefully positioning himself between them so that they couldn’t glance at one another.
“Just sign here, and here, annnnnd…here,” he said, thumping his finger on the paper. Once the last line was signed, he beamed and clapped his huge hands together.
“Done! Who wants vodka?”
The Popescues were all over that plan, but I passed. The maid, Maria, brought me my coffee with a smile. I’d known her damned near my whole life. Yet another sign that my dad was a decent guy, at his core. His staff loved him and always had. As long as they were loyal.
Three quick rounds of vodka shots later, my father sent the Popescu brothers off with friendly slaps of their meaty backs. He said goodbye to them in Praquean and Russian, and the strange pidgin that gypsies like the Popescues’ ancestors spoke, and then closed the door behind them as they left, turning to me with an even bigger smile.
I eased myself down into one of the leather wingbacks that flanked the fireplace.
“So what did you pull off there, exactly?”
He eyed me, like he wasn’t sure if he should tell me.
“That would be family business. And I thought you wanted nothing to do with that? Or…” He raised his eyebrow. “Did you change your mind?”
Shrewd, like I said. “Out with it, Dad. What just happened?”
“Might have caught the father in a bit of a compromising position with one of his young manservants,” he said softly, with a snicker. “He begged me not to tell his wife, and I’m no monster, son, you know that, but I might have leaned on him to persuade the family that their quarry was running short on profitability, and to sell quickly to the next person who offered them a decent price. Which, of course, was me.” He leaned in conspiratorially.
I couldn’t help but laugh a bit, too. He was so overjoyed and his happiness was always contagious.
“Those poor fuckers.”
“They just sold me the cheapest copper and gold mine in the history of the world.” He eyed me with a twinkle, holding the silence a beat longer than was necessary.
“What?” I asked, feeling an undercurrent of something else going on.
“Why do you think I would figure out, while you are back here, a way to buy a mine we’ve wanted for so long? Rich in precious metals…”
“Why?” I pretended to not catch on to his play.
“You’re not that dumb, Vasile. You know why. You probably even suspect I set up the father with the young boy servant. Now, I have a new mine, and need the expertise of someone that has thrived in that business.”
I left it hanging there, knowing full well what he meant. He set it all up. I’d returned home upon my parents request to attend Petre’s wedding. Now, all of the sudden, my father takes on a precious metals business.
He smiled, letting it go for the moment, knowing I knew what he was up to.
“Now, though. To other business. What brings you here today? How can I help?”
The true scope of what Valeria and I had done together—to each other, with each other—began to take shape for the first time. My father had sought legitimacy in a title for as long as I could remember. In one wild night of passion, I had set that whole dream ablaze.
No regrets, though. Not a single fucking one.
“You might want to sit down for this, Dad,” I said.
“I’m alright,” he said, pouring himself another dash of vodka. “Not that old and weak yet!” He raised his glass.
I inhaled slowly and I ran my hand down my stubble.
“I’m serious. You better sit down.”
* * *
My father sat across from me in the pair of leather chairs that flanked the fire. He leaned
